Chapter Twenty-Two
Hugh scratched his jaw as he read back over the missive he’d received from Mr. Arnold about the state of Barnsley Hall, which by all accounts was in severe disrepair.
Arnold had contrived to meet with Mr. Stephens, the incumbent steward, whom he had described very favorably, and who had spoken fondly of Christiana.
With permission, Mr. Arnold would see about making the purchase, although he warned that it would take significant investment to bring the house up to scratch, and that Hugh might want to think twice about such a costly endeavor.
Hugh dipped his pen in the ink to write back that he would be purchasing the house regardless of cost, and that he trusted Mr. Arnold to make all the necessary arrangements.
Old Lord Barnsley might have to be strongarmed into making a sale, but if his financial situation was as dire as he had made it out to be, he would have little choice in the matter. Perhaps it would also be a relief, though he doubted it.
A man such as Lord Barnsley knew nothing but sick pride and an inability to see all the ways he compromised it.
The question was: what to do with him? Hugh massaged his head as he thought.
His first instinct was to throw the old man out and let him fend for himself.
But he could not discount the possibility that he had friends in London—friends who would kick up a fuss about Barnsley’s dutiful daughter failing to care for him in his dotage.
Never mind all the multitude of ways Barnsley had failed said daughter.
Hugh could endure any amount of gossip about himself, but he would not make his wife the object of criticism.
So, then. He would have to find Barnsley somewhere to stay. A small cottage, perhaps. If the property came with a dower house, that would suffice. And he, Hugh, would be forced to pay out of pocket for the man’s continued existence.
The only good thing to come from it was that he would be ensuring the old man could not continue his gambling habits. Not when Hugh held the purse strings.
His mind thus made up, he was about to ring for Penwick and ask him to post the letter when there came a knock at the door. And there, standing as calm and unruffled as could be, was Christiana.
Her eyes were large behind her glasses, and he could recall in perfect detail how it felt to remove the wire frames. Even more, he could recall how it had felt to kiss her. To have her straddling his lap.
The blood in his body rushed south. Truly, it was incredible how, in a house as large as this, he still found himself in close confines with his wife on a regular basis.
Could she be here to ask for a kiss? Somehow, from the directness of her gaze, he doubted it.
She glanced at his desk, then his face. “Am I disturbing you?”
Yes. “Not in the slightest. Come, sit. Did you have something for me?”
“A request, of sorts.” She came to sit on the armchair before the fire, and he took his place in the one opposite. Their knees brushed, and a hint of color stained her cheeks—the first sign she had shown of awareness. Both of him and what had previously transpired between them.
He ruthlessly suppressed any hope that she would be asking for anything in the physical sense. In the day since their kiss, she had made no allusion to it. It was as though, in her mind, it had not happened at all.
“Oh?” he prompted.
“There are two things, I suppose.” She toyed with the lace sleeve of her dress. “I would like to dismiss Mrs. Partridge and Penwick.”
His brows rose and he did his best to maintain his composure. “I see. You have decided to dismiss my butler and housekeeper?”
“In time. I think I may have evidence that they were working together to take advantage of you,” she said. “When that time comes, do I have your blessing?”
“Do you need it?”
“Well, such a big decision ought to be made jointly. Fear not—I won’t act until I’ve found replacements.
I thought Elkins could replace Penwick. He’s been around almost as long, and from what I can gather, has held the position of under-butler for quite some time now.
He knows the ropes and is a familiar face.
I can hire another footman to take his place. ”
Hugh fought the urge to demand how she might achieve such a thing without parading him to potential servants, waiting to see if they would flinch at the sight of his monstrous visage. “I see.”
“I have it entirely under control,” she said, extending a hand as though to place it on his arm. She retracted it again, suddenly unsure. “One that doesn’t involve ritual humiliation on your part.”
“May I ask what this process entails?”
“You may not.” Her eyes were a calmer gray today, the tint almost blue behind her glasses. “Can you trust me?”
“You have a wife who has never been chosen before.”
“You had my assurance that I would support your decisions,” he said. “I will not fail you now.”
A pleased flush lit her cheeks and she smiled. “Thank you.”
Although the thought of having someone new enter his household made his skin crawl, he attempted to return her smile. Somewhere along the way, it seemed, his primary desire had become to make her happy in all things.
“What else did you have to speak to me about?” he asked after a moment.
Her gaze flicked across him, and to his surprise, she leaned over and took his bare hand, free from its glove. He had been wearing them less and less recently. “You won’t like it. But I ask you to hear me out.”
“So far,” he said dryly, transfixed by the sight of her unmarred skin against his own, “I have liked very few of your suggestions.”
“I have been a troublesome wife,” she agreed.
He curled his fingers around hers, holding them captive. “Let’s hear it.”
“Amelia told me about the carnival at the end of the month, and I should like to attend.”
Hugh knew all about the carnival—he had attended as a boy. It was more of a fair, really, given a grand name to entice more people to it. ‘Grancott Carnival’ sounded far grander than “Grancott Fair.” And many people traveled in from across the county to attend. He recalled enjoying it as a boy.
As an adult, he had not attended.
The people feared him.
“Chris,” he said gently.
“I know you don’t like it, but please.” She slid to her knees before him, perhaps in supplication, but it wrought entirely different results.
He prayed she wouldn’t look down to see the rather obvious tent in his trousers.
“How long can you hold us separate from the common people? If this is my home, I would like to be accepted in it.” To make matters worse, she brought his fingertips to her lips and kissed them gently, the way he had with hers on more than one occasion.
He tried to ignore the way desire thundered through him.
His cock ached, pressed so firmly as it was against his breeches.
“And if you would do me the honor, I would like to have you by my side.”
Though it shouldn’t have, the request gratified him. “One appearance will not change their minds.”
She smiled a little against his fingers. The sight made his blood burn. “It’s a start. Please, Hugh. I know you don’t want to go, but if you don’t attend for your own sake, will you accompany me for mine?”
What choice did he have? “Conniving woman,” he said gruffly. “They will take one look at my face and run.”
She reached up to cup his face as she had done before. “The only person who is afraid of you is you, Hugh.”
“I’m afraid experience has proven that to be patently false.”
She traced the lines of the terrible melted skin of his deformity. “You do not look so very bad.”
He caught her wrist, bringing her hand away. “Don’t.”
“Does it hurt?”
What hurt was having her so close and yet, while he was seconds away from laying her on her back before the fire, pushing up her skirts and having his way with her, she looked utterly unaffected.
Sympathetic. Affectionate. But not lustful, not the way he was. Something about her presence turned him more animal than man.
“Not as such,” he said, but he moved her hand farther away. “Are you sold on this course of action, Chris?”
“I am. Will you do it?”
“If you wish it.”
She rose, moving closer, and he found himself opening his legs to accommodate her, wondering if she knew what she was doing.
She made for an unpracticed seductress, and yet he could not doubt her skill.
“Thank you. We will make an appearance and spend money and remind people that you are but a man.” She placed her hands on his shoulders.
“And, if you can, endeavor to have fun with me. Can you do that?”
The kind of fun he wanted to have with her was likely not what she had in mind. Particularly not at a carnival of this nature.
The idea of presenting himself in front of the general populace for judgment made his skin crawl.
They would find him wanting—he knew it. The rumors were too longstanding, and the worst part of it was, they were true.
He did have a nasty temper. Years of self-control had brought it under management, but he had behaved badly and destroyed people’s livelihoods.
Yet when Christiana looked at him like that, he found it harder to believe himself the monster he had always taken refuge in considering himself to be. She looked at him as though he were flesh and blood—as though he were more than the Beast of Somerset.
For her, he wanted to be more.
His reclusive life had brought him a modicum of relief when he’d needed it the most. But perhaps he no longer needed it. Perhaps he had done his time in the dark; he could now contemplate following Christiana into the light.
He had the feeling he would follow her anywhere, so long as she took his hand to lead him there.
“It seems,” he said, “I can deny you nothing.”